


New Beginnings

by cherryblossom22



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Murder Husbands, Post 3x13, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6892537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryblossom22/pseuds/cherryblossom22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Will wakes up after the fall, he knows his life will never be the same again.  <br/>New name, new life, new... Hobbies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Beginnings

"It's beautiful," Will whispered, eyes barely able to meet those of Hannibal's as he felt his consciousness slowly seep away.

The two men had lost plentiful blood after their joint victory against Francis Dolarhyde and were situated on a cliff edge above the crashing waves of the furious sea below. Hannibal pulled Will closer in an attempt to steady them both. His gaze lingered on Will’s eyes for a moment longer, before slowly drawing his focus onto the other man’s lips. Will’s vision followed and the two hovered for a moment, lost in the captivating feeling; the wounds they had sustained suddenly immaterial.

With the last of his strength, Will clutched Hannibal’s shoulder and tugged, causing the two to collapse over the edge, piercing through the sharp night air and inevitably plummeting into the ocean below.

***

When Will awoke, he noticed two things, first of which was that the throbbing heat from his injuries had been replaced with a dull ache, and secondly; he was no longer somewhere he recognised, but lying in a warm, king-sized bed with no sign of his companion.

Will allowed his eyes to adjust to his surroundings and as he lent on his arms to pull himself up into a sitting position, he felt a sharp pain in his ribs. He pressed his palm lightly to his bare torso, which had been freshly bandaged and hissed slightly at the contact; he was obviously still very tender. Will sighed and dragged his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Looking out the window, he was relieved that he was still in America; or at least an English speaking country judging from the street signs below.

Will rubbed his eyes, pushed back some stray curls and put on a fresh pair of trousers and shirt which were neatly folded at the foot of the bed. There was no doubt it was Hannibal who had selected out the expensive clothes, so there went any chance of Will leaving the apartment without being tracked down by him. He decided instead to explore the rest of the house, which may give more clues to where exactly he was.

Once he had stepped into the slim trousers and buttoned up the navy shirt, Will pushed lightly on the bedroom door, creaking at the hinges as it opened. The bedroom was at the very end of the stretched hallway, so he took his time to look at the marvellous original paintings and small cabinets as he walked- not daring to touch any of Hannibal’s prized possessions. Will Graham may be many things, but rude _definitely_ wasn’t one of them.

The living room closely resembled that of Hannibal’s office back in Baltimore, same dark colours, minimalist furniture, exquisite artwork. Will wouldn’t be surprised if the doctor had painted them himself; he always had an eye for taste. He lightly dragged his fingertips across the backrest of one black leather sofa when he was caught off-guard by a loud ringing of the phone resting on the coffee table. Will paused for a moment to contemplate whether or not to answer.

_He left you here alone, Will. He has some sense of trust in you to behave… Or perhaps he’s still playing his twisted game. He wants to see what I’ll do. Well, Doctor Lecter- I’ll play ball._

“Hello?”

“Yes, good morning. Is this Professor Bente?” The male voice chirped.

“I’m sorry?” Will pressed.

“Professor Alexander Bente? We’re calling to confirm that his clothes are ready to be collected.” The man either worked for dry cleaning or Hannibal had began on a fresh, expensive wardrobe already.

_Goddammit, Hannibal…_ Will pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, thinking of what the hell the doctor had been planning. Why was he so calm about this situation? Surely by now Jack and the rest of his FBI flock had sussed out that the two hadn’t in fact perished in the fall, but were apparently living upper-class, false aliases.

Will cleared his throat, “Yes of course, I’ll pass the message on to him as soon as he… Returns.” Will quickly picked up a pen from the coffee table and asked for the location of the clothes-something-or-other and noted it down on his left palm.

“Thank you.” And with that; Will took his chances with Hannibal and shrugged on a blazer before leaving the apartment.

***

From what the man had told him, he was apparently in Washington DC. _Not exactly Hannibal’s style,_ Will thought to himself. Hannibal seemed to prefer ‘cities that never sleep,’ but now that he thinks about it; Will suspects Hannibal chose the safety of night to plan his kills. The FBI won’t likely track them down there, at least for a while.

Will wasn’t even completely sure if he wanted Jack Crawford to find him. Hell; he didn’t even know what Hannibal’s intentions were.

He eventually found the location. A tall, slender, terraced building, which shows that Hannibal definitely wasn’t waiting for his dry-cleaning. The stretched windows displayed the most beautiful suits the profiler had ever seen. Every small detail, from the cuffs to the ankles- all elegant and thought out. Will let out a breath of air he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding and let himself into the shop.

Will was greeted even before his foot had even set foot on the polished floor. He suspects that his new wardrobe was somehow the reason for it.

“Good morning! Welcome to Thompson’s Tailors, may I get you something to drink, sir?” It was the same, enthusiastic voice which spoke on the phone. Will can’t help but roll his eyes slightly at the man; grinning as if Will was Jesus or something.

“No thank you, I’m here to pick up clothes for my friend, Dr- _Professor_ Bente? You called our residence earlier.” Thankfully the man hadn’t noticed Will’s slight slip up, and if he had, he didn’t show. He was instructed to sign papers stating who had picked up the clothes along with the date and time before the man carefully placed the hangers, weighed down by the suits into his arms. Will couldn’t leave the shop faster even if he tried.

The apartment was only half a mile away so Will could take off the mask and begin panicking as soon as he got back. _You could run, Will. Hannibal isn’t here, maybe he left you this apartment. Hell, perhaps Professor Bente is just a name he gave for you to start a new life._

Will shook the troubling thoughts from his mind and focused on thinking about warm summer nights with Winston, Buster and the rest of the pack; long forest walks, drinking beer on the porch… Just then, it came to Will's attention that he was already halfway up the stairs to the apartment door, he prayed to God that nobody had broken in, since he didn’t have a key to lock up when he left. He opened the door slowly, not to be greeted by his loving pups; but a familiar figure sitting at the kitchen table; legs crossed and a small glass of red wine in hand.

“Good morning, Will. Enjoy your walk?”

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't really know where I'm going with this, but I'll write whenever I can!


End file.
